For the Cause
by sissyHIYAH
Summary: Jihl Nabaat and Eric Cartman.  Two racist sociopaths with similar agendas.  I'm just surprised nobody has beaten me to writing this.


Note: Originally posted on livejournal. This was actually very, very hard to do because Cartman is tough as hell to write, which really surprised me. A racist, sexist, narcissistic bastard sounds easy, but I had trouble with him. It's also slammed here at work and I'm in a bitchy mood, so I couldn't quite make it chuckly and fun like I wanted to either. Oh well.

As for why Jihl is in South Park, Colorado? Well, she's lost. It happens.

* * *

"Butters!"

The intercom was a nice touch, thought Cartman. It lent a certain air of professionalism to the proceedings, which was very much desirable considering his company. He pushed a tray of cheesy-poofs across the desk, nodding politely when his guest declined. Clearing his throat, he lifted the can to his mouth once more and growled so that he could feel every vibration in the string connecting him to his outer office. "Buttehs!"

A pair of skittish blue eyes peeked around the door. "Er, y-yes sir?"

The cheesy-poofs were pushed aside and forgotten. His ward now present and eager to serve, Cartman was able to showcase his authority. He felt it necessary, especially with such a distinguished woman regarding him with eerily attentive detachment. "I feel parched, Butters. A tasty beverage, perhaps?"

Butters shifted his feet and nervously tapped his fingertips together. "Well uh, do ya want the tears of infidels brought to ya again? I can ask my mom if she'll tell that story about her ex-boyfriend to Dad like the last time..."

"No, no, Butters. " Cartman craved power, could feel it radiating from his guest. He nodded to her, a gesture that might have been considered a show of respect had it not been for the way his eyes never left the jeweled baton at her hip. "I have a thirst for something a bit different. A great, great thirst."

Jihl, as the woman was called, returned the nod and again declined his offer for refreshments. She doubted that he could successfully poison her, but his hands were grubby and stained and thoroughly disgusting. She wondered where his parents were, why they would allow a tubby little bastard like him to answer the door and give directions. She didn't have time to play games with children. They were useless at their best and sheer nightmares at their worst.

"We got some Kool-Aid and some brownies in the uh..." Butters looked to Jihl, then to that weird vein ticking in Cartman's temple, then back to Jihl. Kitchen didn't sound impressive enough to keep Cartman from exploding. "...in the war room, sir."

All of them were nightmares, except perhaps for the stuttering child. He was almost endearing, in a pleasantly subservient way.

"You have... brownies in your war room?"

Cartman pinched the bridge of his nose and released a loud sigh. "Do you hear this, Butters?"

Butters listened, but all he could hear was Cartman's loud, hurried breaths. It sounded almost like his grandpa when he climbed the stairs. "Uh..."

"Sighing, Butters, I'm _sighing."_

"Well, I'm tryin', sir! I don't know what you want me to..."

Jihl crossed her legs and toyed with the hemline on her skirt. "I can give you the blood of the l'Cie, if you truly thirst for something different."

Cartman's eyes flew open. Jihl was surprised to see such lust in his face.

"Blood?"

"That's not a real good idea, sir. Blood has all sorts of germs in it. Why, my mom won't even let me eat a rare steak 'cause she says I'll get all wormy in my tummy."

"Leave us, Butters."

Tiptoeing past Jihl, afraid to get too close to her and the fangs she must have hidden behind that pretty smile, Butters snuck close to Cartman and whispered, "Er, sir, I don't trust her. She's got a mean look. Kind of like my mom w-when she tells me to clean up my r-room or _else."_

"Dismissed, Buttahs!"

The shout rattled the ears of everyone in the room. "Y-yes sir!"

When Butters scuttled from the room and closed the door behind him, Cartman pushed up from the desk chair and began pacing the floor.

"Now...about these...l'Cie, you called them? Tell me more about them."

Jihl smiled. She was disgusted by the boy, yet she enjoyed his attention. "They're little more than beasts, young sir. They are foul, soulless creatures that are destroying my beloved home. I have worked very hard to eradicate these animals from existence, yet they continue to breed."

Cartman's voice was low, serious. He stared out of his window, his gaze turned towards the road that would take him to Kyle's home. "Those dirty Jews..."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Hippies, Jews, l'Cie. Whatever their names, they're all the same. Stinking apes that smoke pot and screw on Mexican blankets while they...sneak into my mom's room and shake her mattress, looking for spare change."

Jihl raised an eyebrow as she reconsidered her host. Maybe he wasn't the wretched waste of flesh she previously thought. "Hm. They do have an insatiable hunger for resources. I'm having particular trouble with a pair of sisters and their companions. Their vacant eyes and flaming hair haunt me, even though I've traveled so far..."

The pacing stopped. "Their what?"

"Their eyes. They have a look of almost predatory..."

Cartman shook his head. "No, no. You said they have... red hair?"

"Red as the flames of hell, young sir."

The only sounds were the hum of the ventilation system and the gurgle of the boy's ample gut as he processed this information.

"Daywalkers..."

"I'm sorry?" Jihl was surprised by this change in attitude. Gone was the corpulent child that offered her cheese snacks. In his place was a determined young man that seemed to be taking her words to heart.

"Vampires, ma'am. They mean to suck our souls from our bodies in order to increase their armies."

"Vampires?" The l'Cie weren't vampires. That was ridiculous. They just sucked the life from hard-working Cocoon citizens and...

Hm.

Perhaps the boy was onto something.

"Well, they certainly are parasites."

Cartman turned back to her, his expression deadly serious. "It would appear that you are under the same burden as myself."

"It is indeed quite the burden. Sometimes I feel as if I'm the only one that sees past their lies, down into their rotten black hearts."

"Yes! Yes!" Cartman suddenly seized the sides of her head and punctuated every syllable with a hard shake. She understood! Finally! She saw the light! "That's exactly it!"

Jihl felt a stirring deep within her. It might have been pride. Perhaps it was patriotism. She refused to admit the possibility that his cheesy breath was making her ill, not when she had another zealot to add to her ranks. "It seems that I've met a kindred spirit."

"Ma'am, you've met your humble servant. I will do whatever necessary to help you rid the world of the Jews. " Visions passed through his mind of armies loyal to him and him alone, all ready to die for their great leader. And this woman! This lost woman, who had knocked on his door asking for directions to some far-off town named Eden or Denver or something like that; she could be his mighty general and assist him to his proper place! "Whatever it takes to destroy Kyle..."

She didn't know who this Kyle was, but if it meant extending the reach of PSICOM to this quiet little, pissant, redneck, podunk, backwater, white trash mountain town, then she was perfectly willing to exterminate him too. "So you will assist me in the Purge?"

"Yes, ma'am!"

"I thank you for this, young sir. " Jihl stood from her seat and bowed her head in gratitude. The sun was setting and she had yet to find proper lodging. She'd be damned before she'd sleep in a town full of racist nutjobs. "You'll become a hero for the cause."

Cartman kissed her hand and wished her a good evening. He watched her walk away, admiring the way her baton swung against her legs. The winter night was cold and he was confident she wouldn't go far before returning to him. _Mmm, yes, my lovely. I'll be a hero and you'll soon become a martyr for my glorious revolution..._

Returning to his desk, he spat into the intercom. "Butters!"

"Er, yes sir?"

"Prepare the guest suite."

Butters seemed confused. "You m-mean the treehouse?"

"Butters...don't be a douchebag. Prepare the guest suite."

"Er, yes sir."

"And make sure my guest is comfortable when she returns. She's the key to my final solution."

"She's gonna do yer homework for ya since Kyle wouldn't?"

Cartman sighed again.

"Shut up, Butters."


End file.
